Goodnight My Angel
by Gabigail
Summary: While seven year old Cassandra Clinton’s life hangs in the balance. The BAU is called to assist San Francisco Police in finding her kidnapper. Will they find him before he bids her goodnight?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds and its characters are the creation of Jeff Davis and are copy written under CBS (as far as I can tell). No infringement upon their rights is intended. The stories written under the penname Gabigail, however, do belong to me. None are written for profit and are intended for entertainment purposes only.

Authors Note:  
Dear Reader(s),  
This is the middle section of the trilogy that I have been working on. I apologise that I worked outwards in, as I had only made reference to this 'case' in the conclusion of Nearly a Dozen and the Beginning of Turning the Tables. It was only after completing the latter, I thought that this piece might actually be interesting to pen. However, what I hadn't realised was how difficult a challenge I had created for myself as the subject matter is incredibly dark, which of course is the main reason I have rated the piece accordingly. Please note that this humble author appreciates any and all comments as it assists in the writing process. I hope that you enjoy the story and that it doesn't give you goose bumps. Without stalling any further...

* * *

Goodnight My Angel

It's your typical beautiful, breezy, sunny summer day. The playground is jam packed with an array of happy children playing. Some of the parents content themselves on the sidelines, watching the older children as they play tag, while other parents help guild the youngsters through the mazes of moulded plastic slides, metal beams, and soft sand. Amongst the not so organised chaos of playtime, a little girl, with her long chestnut hair in a ponytail, sits on a swing. She swing races with her best friends to see who can reach the sky first, or see over top red painted railing— whichever comes first. Her excited giggles blend with the chorus of joyous screams of gotcha, the sudden shrieks of surprise, and the content laughs echoing in the wide, open space. Allowing her swing to slow, she waits for her moment to jump. She giggles loudly, as she jumps off the swing as far as she can; her friends jump from their swings as well. Trying to figure out who has jumped the farthest, they mark the packed sand with the toes of their shoes.

"I win!" one of them cries out triumphantly as the others carefully examine the marks in the sand.

"Ally, you totally cheated!" one of the others says in a tone filled with attitude. Her blond curly hair is tied up in a high ponytail, the curls bobbing in the opposite direction of her head. "I think I jumped further than you did." Sarcasm laces her addition and with her little hands on her hips, she sticks out her tongue. The last girl just beams mischievously as she pushes one of the others.

"Tag! You're IT!" she hollers at the top of her lungs, as she runs as fast as her little legs will carry her towards the jungle gym.

"Hey! Cassie, that's so not fair!" Ally yells, dashing after her.

Unbeknown to the jubilant children and their parents, lies in wait a predator, observing his prey from afar. Calculating his strike, just when the time is right; when they least expect it. For the time being, however, he will content himself with watching her.

My lucky little angel, he muses and his crooked smile widens in anticipation of when and how he will gain her trust. Letting out a throaty chuckle, he knows exactly how easy it will be to have her in his possession long before her mother even realises that she's gone. He even finds himself visualising how well his newest edition will look in the room he carefully picked just for her. After all, he invested a great deal of time watching her, so much in fact he feels as though he knows exactly what will please her.

Prior to arriving at the park this afternoon, he had spent the entire morning preparing the room for her. He had opened the casement window to rid the room of the staleness that had crept in after Lydia's passing. He had stripped and remade the bed with fresh linens and recounts how he felt observing his own perfection. Closing the door behind, he had been quick in making his way upstairs; picking up a light jacket from its place draped over the banister and drove to the park where he knew he would find his next doll. Being so close, yet so far makes him wonder if he is able to wait. Patience is a virtue, he reminds himself, recalling the pleasure that the fruits of his labour will reward him with.

* * *

From the moment the plane touched down in San Francisco, Gideon immediately senses the sharp change in the atmosphere amongst the team members, contributing to his own fears. The knot in his stomach continues to tighten as he attempts to clear his mind, clear his perspective by viewing this case like any other. Unfortunately, all methods employed to assist in the matter only seem to hinder the result— the knot now making him feel nauseous. Gain the proper perspective, he tells himself— but how can anyone on the team, or working on the case for that matter, have an unbiased vantage point? Especially, when the crime scene photographs themselves evoke such extreme emotions/reactions? Firstly, everyone privy to the case immediately feels a sense of disgust towards their un-sub, because what he does to his victims— kidnapping, sexually assaulting, torturing them mentally and finally murdering them is beyond the 'norms' behaviour; and secondly, they find themselves emphasising with the victims. They feel as though they can physically feel the pain and suffering inflicted upon the little girls.

The team, Gideon in particular, are well aware that they are in a race against time, despite the fact that the little girl had only been missing a few hours prior to their departure. Gideon's heart feels heavy in his ever-tightening chest and he wonders if they are indeed too late. He is well aware of the grim statistics surrounding child abductions. Despite his worst fears becoming a reality, the urge to have hope remains. Perhaps it is childish optimism, yet he has manages to have hope that somehow the statistics are wrong. Hope that they best the seemingly overwhelming odds that are stacked against them and hope that they find her before the inevitable.

Elle's heavy sigh seems to bring Gideon from his reverie, drawing his attention to her as she rests her head in her hand and rubs her temple while flipping through some papers in front of her. As much as he tries to hide his emotions, she is well aware of the tension in the room and the majority of that tension coming directly from him, as he sits quietly beside her. Looking up, she watches as Hotchner stands, straightens his well-cut suit jacket and moves towards one of the many boards set up in the room, literally plastered with information. Photographs of the areas where the bodies had been discovered as well as photographs of the victims both in the context of the crime scene and in the morgue. Notations made to connect the dates the kidnappings had been reported and how many days later the discovery occurred. Everyone in that room cringes at the fact that the un-sub is now overlapping his kidnappings with the disposal of bodies.

"The media have penned him the doll collector." Elle lets the papers fall from her slender fingers. "For the past four months a total of seven girls in or around the ages of five to nine have been abducted. Unless the media have an inside source, I don't quite understand how they have so easily connected these kidnapping/murders."

"The fact they haven't called us in sooner had me wondering that very fact as well." Hotchner turns to face the team.

"From where I sit, they should have called us in sooner." Morgan states, picks up his pen and starts writing something on the pad of paper that sits on the glossy table in front of him. "It's clear to me that they are unsure in terms of who they're searching for." He adds letting his pen drop onto the page.

"Probably would have, if we weren't off and about." Reid says more to himself. Gideon can see the façade he quickly assumes. Elle stands and goes over to one of the boards to take a closer look at some of the information.

"See anything interesting?" Gideon asks standing behind her. Shaking her head, she sighs as her stomach growls loudly. Embarrassed, she looks down for a moment.

"Sorry, I couldn't really eat lunch today." She rests her hand on her stomach and Gideon smiles.

"I think that it's probably a good idea to break. I highly doubt that sound work comes from empty stomachs." He wonders if food will settle or upset the knot that still commands his own unsettled stomach.

Packing up a few files, Hotchner and the team make sure to have the meat of the case with them and head out to the parking lot.

"What does everyone feel like?" Reid inquires from his place between Elle and Morgan from the very back seat.

"Detective Byrnes suggested a stake house not far from here." Morgan says as Hotchner turns onto the main street into the flow of traffic.

It's a quiet interlude as each is well aware of the difficulty in discussing the topic over dinner. Therefore, their exchanges run along more comfortable, more casual conversation.

"Out of curiosity, what do you do in you spare time?" Reid inquires. "That is if you ever have enough time to yourself." He adds, forking his salad.

"Whatever you do, don't mention Star Trek to Reid." Morgan whispers in Hotchner's ear, who responds by cocking a thick dark brow, as all eyes rest on him to begin.

"Haley and I enjoy any quiet time we have together." Hotchner says with a happy grin. "She's absolutely wonderful." He adds cutting into the roast beef he ordered.

"What about you Gideon? Somehow I picture you sitting in an overstuffed leather chair reading a good book, perhaps re-working another one of your many papers and listening to classical music. No wait!" Morgan punctuates his dramatic pause with his fork. "Show tunes." His pearly smile widens before he sips his drink. Gideon almost rolls his eyes in response to this gross over exaggeration.

"So what exactly are you suggesting?" he presses his lips in wait.

"Why? Am I close? You don't have to answer that. It's just how I see you." He replies with a grin.

"Actually Gideon, I can understand where Morgan is coming from." Elle interjects, knowing that she will be grilled next. "I always like to think that despite the fact that we do this for a living, we're as normal as the next person." She rests her fork on her plate and dabs at the corners of her mouth with her napkin.

"Well Elle, what do you do in your spare time? Other than running." Hotchner tilts his head towards her. Sitting back slightly in thought she takes another sip of her drink.

"Let's see," she stalls a little long by placing the napkin back on her lap. "Recently, I've taken up yoga and I enjoy reading." She glares at Morgan. "What I really love is to have friends over for dinner. I have found cooking and good conversation a wonderful stress reliever. Does that make me boring?"

"No, I'm just surprised that you can cook." Morgan kicks her under the table. She ignore him and takes a sip of water.

"Reid, you've been rather quiet. Oh wait, let us guess." Hotchner's smile widens and he thinks for a moment. "I noticed that you seem to take a lot of work home, so I'm thinking that you prepare your case studies for your guest lectures?"

"Sometimes." He admits shyly.

"You probably don't watch much television, I highly doubt that would keep your mind busy." Gideon pushes his plate to the side and the waitress makes her way over to the table and begins collecting their dishes.

"May I bring you the desert menu? Or perhaps some tea or coffee?"

"Chamomile tea please and honey?" Reid says.

"Black coffee." Morgan says as all eyes fall on him. "What? It isn't that late."

"Earl grey tea." Gideon says and rests his hands on the tabletop.

"That sounds good." Elle nods towards the waitress.

"And you sir?" she directs her inquiry towards Hotchner.

"Regular tea please." He replies and she makes her way towards the kitchen. "This really is a nice place." He adds, resting his clasped hands on the table. He looks at his watch. "I suppose we ought to head back to the hotel. We can get back to the matter at hand in the morning."

"I didn't want to discuss it over dinner because the nature of the case is beyond emotional, however, I was going to suggest that we convene in one of our rooms and continue working. This is a missing girl. Lord knows what he's already done to her." Gideon physically shudders and the sentiment seems to make its way around the table.

"We've left them with a working profile." Reid begins.

"Right, and they seemed to have a list of suspects." Morgan adds.

"They don't have everything." Hotchner says.

"What do you mean?" Morgan turns his attention to Hotchner.

"Yes, we gave them a working profile, with which they have something to run their list of suspects against. I just have a feeling that their list will not have the one we're looking for." He finishes his tea just as the waitress returns with their check. "Thank you." He places the credit card in the sleeve and she leaves them once more. "I almost forgot J.J. is on her way and will be joining us later tomorrow. She had a few loose ends to tie up at Quantico and will be giving a press conference with the family's participation." He adds after signing the receipt, places the card back in its slot in his wallet and they stand.

* * *

He has taken great care in preparing their meals. Returning to the top of the narrow staircase, he is careful not to trip and fall with the final tray. Walking down the familiar hallway towards her door, he passes numerous others that all have brass nameplates with their names in neat script. Pausing outside her door, he can hear her quiet whimpers as he fumbles for the keys. Listening carefully, he immediately notices that the moment the key is placed into the lock, the whimpering ceases. Opening the door, he flips the nearby light switch, bathing the room in a soft glow from the various lamps strategically placed. The room itself is decorated similar to one from a Victorian dollhouse. The walls are papered in a pink silk tasteful floral pattern that is complimented by the cream floral bedding and the heavy drapes. The gentle swish of fabric catches his attention as the little form moves to face away from her captor in fear.

"I brought you something to eat sweetie." His voice is kind. "If you don't eat, you'll only starve to death and that's a very painful experience." He says as he sets the tray on the small writing table that sits in front of the drapes.

"I'm not hungry." She says softly, keeping her back to him. She feels the mattress protest his weight as he sits on the bed beside her, then his callused fingers as he runs them through her soft, long hair. Ignoring her response he tilts his head and leans in towards her.

"Once you're fed, we'll get you into the tub and wash your hair." Letting his lips graze her neck, he mummers into her little ear, inhaling the scent of the strawberry shampoo. She keeps herself in the fetal position, holding onto her thin legs for dear life, afraid that should she let go, he'd hurt her again. "Come on sweet heart, I made your favourite." He says getting up and quickly getting the tray, sits back down with it on his thighs and gently touches her arm. With her stomach growling, she is unable to refuse the food offered. Very slowly, she gathers her courage and sits up. "There, that's it." He coos gently as she reaches out towards the fork and begins eating. "I'll be back in a little while and we'll get you into the tub." He gets up and leaves her to eat alone, locking the door behind.

Finishing the meal set in front of her, she sighs, takes the tray, returns it to the desk and plunks herself on the floor beside the bed, sobbing into the nightgown. Feeling as though she has cried for eternity and that she has no more tears to shed, she sniffles and rubs at her swollen eyes before hearing the familiar sound of his footsteps approaching her door. Just as before, he is very deliberate in sliding the key into the lock and opening the door. In one arm, he carries a small terry cloth pink bathrobe.

"Come along my dear." His voice is kind despite the fact that she knows what will happen before her bath. Closing her eyes, she musters up the nerve to move towards him. She knows that he will, once again take her upstairs into his bedroom, then into the bathroom to bathe them afterwards. Somehow on this night she is happy that she has no more tears to shed.

* * *

Gideon has already thought for them to set up in his hotel room, he leads the team with the boxes of evidence and begins to set themselves up. He and Hotchner sit in the armchairs that reside in front of the large picture window. The drapes and sheers pulled back, revealing the nightscape of tall buildings and the glimmer of streetlights. Morgan plunks himself into the desk chair, sits back and swivels as he puts the files Reid hands him in order. Reid tosses Elle the decorative pillow to sit on, and she sits at Gideon's feet, while he sits with his long legs crossed underneath himself and leans against the bed.

"What exactly are we looking for?" Morgan inquires after they had spent a little over an hour going through the files.

"The DNA evidence is rather weak. I honestly don't think they would be able to build their case on that alone." Reid says after going through another file and adding it to the pile in front of Elle. "The fact that he baths the girls and puts them into fresh nightgowns gets rid of most trace evidence."

"Unless he gets sloppy." Morgan says under his breath. "Goes off the prescribed pattern of behaviour."

"I doubt that our presence will cause that. This un-sub is confident and has a reason why he does this." Hotchner sighs and closes the file in his hands.

"This un-sub is very similar to that guy who was murdering real estate agents." Morgan sighs. "Smart enough to rid the victim of incriminating evidence. If I'm the un-sub, I'm not intending to allow myself to be caught."

"Yes, but someone has to have seen something. Wouldn't the un-sub spend time studying the pattern of behaviour of his intended victims? In this case, he must watch the family." Elle rests her elbow on the pillow placed in her lap and rests her chin on the back of her hand, "and thereby extension would have knowledge of the best time to gain access." She adds. Morgan thinks for a moment.

"Correct, however, what you're suggesting takes time. Our un-sub seems to already know when and where he's going to nab his victim. I'd say he knows them." He adds with a sigh. Reid writes notes on a pad in a script Elle doesn't recognise and assumes it's a form of shorthand. Everyone writes their own notations on how they perceive the ideas that they bounce off each other. Hotchner then clears his throat and gets their attention.

"We all have had a very difficult day and I think we ought to get some rest. At this point, speculation is really doing very little in actually locating Cassandra." He shakes his head and stands. "We'll meet downstairs in the hotel restaurant for breakfast."

"That sounds like a plan, my man." Morgan states and follows Hotchner's cue. Reid yawns and collects his pens and notes before standing.

"See you guys tomorrow." He smiles and closes the door behind him. Elle knows that she has to move and like everyone else is in dire need of rest, but remains frozen, or perhaps glued to her spot. Gathering the files, she puts them back in order and hands them to Gideon, who places them on the table with the others. Holding out his hand, she takes it and he helps her to her feet.

"Thanks." She looks down, suddenly feeling a moment of silent awkwardness between them. Both know words are not needed. Gideon clears his throat in a nervous manner and Elle tosses the pillow back in its place on the bed.

"Is something troubling you?" his voice is smooth in her ears. She keeps her gaze down and nods.

"It's really nothing." She says as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "I thought dinner went well; for the most part. Do you really read and listen to classical music? You never confirmed nor denied it." She says in a teasing tone, as she cocks her head and he watches as her long, wavy chestnut hair caresses the creamy skin of her exposed collar bone, much in the same manner as a wave gently laps upon the shore. Keeping his professional façade intact, he smiles with a low chuckle.

"Reading is one of the many things that I enjoy." He says and she enjoys the warmth of his smile, how it seems to reach out and caress her, something akin to the warmth of the sun's gentle morning rays. Returning his smile, the feeling of being out of place washes over her and she steps back, putting that professional amount of distance between them— yet at the same time, she is still able to feel the heat that radiates form his body as he walks her to the door.

"I'll see you tomorrow." She reaches out and runs her hand down his arm before making her way out the door. Closing and locking the door behind her, he presses his back against it in an attempt to regain the balance he feels he's lost. Still feeling her fingers gently caressing his arm, the hair on the back of his neck suddenly stands on end and he walks towards the middle of the room. How could I have missed that? He wonders with a heavy sigh, he then sits on the foot of the bed, allowing himself to fall backwards.

* * *

Cassandra is led back down to her cell in the basement. Tucking her into bed, he pulls the blankets over her little body and kisses her forehead gently.

"Good night my angel." He says and turns out the lights as he leaves her room, locking the door behind. Making his way down the hallway, he pauses at Monique's door. Sliding the key into the lock, he opens the door and turns on the light. Stepping into the room, his eyes rest on the motionless form tucked neatly in bed in the same manner as Cassandra had just been.

"Oh my little angel." He whispers in a soft tone as though she is still alive. He is careful in scooping her still form and cradling her closely to his chest. Then makes his way up stairs and through the ill-lit rooms, out into the night.

Parking the car under a tree, it's branches offering enough shadow to conceal the license plate, he gathers her in his arms once more. Pulls a blanket from the backseat, wraps her up within it as though it's meant to keep her warm against the chill in the night air. Setting her tenderly under the tree, he kisses her little forehead.

"Good night sweet angel." He is quiet as if his words will wake her from her permanent sleep. He then tucks the fuzzy teddy bear within her arms. Standing, he seems satisfied with her placement and walks back to the awaiting car.

That morning the team arrive at the police station, which is a buzz with officers talking in hushed tones. Elle's expression falls as fear creeps through her bones.

"I'm so glad that you're here." Detective Byrnes says in a loud voice, meeting the team in the middle of sheer organised chaos. Morgan's expression changes from easy going, to serious in a matter of three point two seconds.

"Have you found Cassandra?" Elle inquires, her hand resting on her slender hip.

"No, as it stands she's still alive. However, Monique Roberts isn't so lucky. One of the shop owners found her body this morning. Apparently, she parks her car on the perimeter of the lot, and immediately noticed the body when she got out of her car." Byrnes sighs in frustration.

"Refresh my memory. How many days did she go missing prior to Cassandra's kidnapping?" Gideon motions for them to continue the discussion in the conference room.

"Nine." Reid says removing his messenger bag he sits in the seat beside Hotchner.

"So that gives us roughly seven to eight days before he kidnaps another girl." Gideon works out a few things in his mind.

"What you're saying is time has literally become the enemy?" Detective Byrnes states. Gideon nods, knowing statistically that with most kidnapping cases end tragically.

"You mentioned that you have a list of suspects?" Hotchner turns to face Byrnes.

"Yes, after you presented your profile we compiled an extensive list." He replies. "Sex offenders, those charged with possession of kiddie porn, and those who seem to fit your profile."

"Have you begun the process of questioning?" Morgan can feel the fear and tension saturate the room.

"Not as yet. We were hoping that once we held the press conference it would cut the list at the very least in half." He replies with hope. "I have created teams to canvas the areas where the bodies were found, local playgrounds, and nearby neighbourhoods. A combination of plain clothed undercover officers and uniformed officers. I don't want this guy knowing what we're up to." Byrnes says as they head towards the conference room. J.J. sits at the table going over her notes once more in preparation. Cassandra's family sit around the table with her waiting. Mrs. Clinton is dabbing at her eyes with tissue while Mr. Clinton keeps an arm around her shoulders, comforting her as it is obvious to them, unable to deal with his own fear and grief.

"How come no one is doing anything?" Mr. Clinton demands through clenched teeth. Gideon takes it upon himself to get the formal introductions rolling.

"Mr. Shawn Clinton. I'm Special Agent Jason Gideon." He extends his hand.

"Special Agent Gideon. My daughter is still missing. We're going into the second day and from what I've heard, they just found a little girl's body."

"I don't want to lie to you Mr. Clinton. They have found a body, but I can assure you that it isn't Cassandra's." he says making sure to put the family at ease.

"How can you be sure?" Mrs. Clinton cries through the tissue.

"The parents of the little girl confirmed that it was their daughter." Elle says, putting a comforting hand on Mrs. Clinton's shoulders.

"My little girl. My sweet, innocent little girl." She whispers. "It's all my fault." She cries and Shawn grabs her, letting her sob into his chest.

"Shhh, honey it's okay. It's not your fault." Shawn coos in her ear, knowing that it's of very little help.

"I can assure you that San Francisco police are doing everything in their power to find Cassandra." Byrnes states in as calm a tone as he can manage.

"Are you going to be all right to participate in the press conference?" J.J. asks the family. "You don't have to, if you feel that it's too upsetting." She adds, her usually sparkling baby blues, reflect a more serious darkness. Looking at each other, Mr. and Mrs. Clinton nod in unison that they will indeed partake.

"Even if it means saving someone else's little girl." Shawn collects himself.

"Then are you ready?" J.J. inquires as she gathers her papers and stands.

"We are." Shawn helps his wife to her feet and they head out to the wolves.

"At least J.J. has prepared them for what's out there." Morgan says as the team take their seats and begin to reopen the facts.

"Somehow I doubt the wolves care about the families this guy is effecting. I think to them the story is far more significant." Reid says, placing his hands on the tabletop.

"Keep your fingers crossed that this press conference does what we're all hoping for." Byrnes says in frustration.

"We are not here to frighten families into locking up their children. We are here to assist the San Francisco Police Department in apprehending their suspect. We know that he's a white male, probably in his late thirties to early forties." J.J. gives the media the information that they need, that they hope will assist them in capturing their un-sub.

"Why is the FBI only getting in involved now?" a journalist from the front calls out.

"At first, we thought we knew who we were looking for. However, once an arrest had been made and the kidnappings continued, we knew that we needed the assistance of the FBI. Besides, Gideon owes me a favour." Byrnes says causing a chorus of laughter. "Seriously, I know how good the BAU are and figured that they would be an asset in apprehending our suspect."

"Then why is the suspect still free?" another reporter hollers.

"Unlike some cases, child abductions are usually the act of one known to the victim. This case doesn't quite follow the norms." J.J. lets the detective continue to answer a few more questions.

"The family wishes to make a statement." J.J. finally butts in, causing a ripple of surprise to wash over the crowd. Mr. and Mrs. Clinton finally allow themselves to be seen.

"Thank you Agent Jareau. We just want to know that Cassandra is all right. There is a contact number that you can call. If it's money that you want, please call and let us know." Shawn says as his wife can only cry. "Cassandra, we love you very much. Stay strong baby. We will see you soon; mommy and daddy will do whatever it takes. We love you." He adds just before suddenly breaking down.

* * *

Sitting around the family's dinning room table, Gideon, Elle and Detective Byrnes have just finished speaking with Ally's parents to ensure them that they will not upset the little girl. Ally's mother leaves the room and goes to Ally's room to get her.

"Honey the policeman is here to ask you some questions about what you told us you saw in the park before Cassie went missing." She reaches out and Ally takes her hand.

"Mommy, may I please have something to drink first?" she asks politely as they make their way downstairs.

"Of course, what would you like?"

"Cherry juice please." She smiles brightly and they go to the fridge, her mother takes out the juice box and they go into the dinning room. They sit at the dinning table and her mother opens the straw and pokes it into the box before setting it in front of Ally.

"Hi Ally. I'm Special Agent Elle Greenaway. You can call me Elle. This is Special Agent Jason Gideon. We're helping Detective Byrnes find Cassandra."

"Cassie is my best friend in the whole entire world." Her smile brightens the darkness that surrounds them.

"Can you tell me what the man looked like?" Byrnes asks in a child friendly voice, not wanting to scare her.

"It's okay Ally. You're helping to find Cassie." Her mother whispers as her father places a comforting arm around her small shoulders. She takes her time in trying to put everything in her head together.

"He was tall like my dad, but he had hair coloured like the FBI agent." She says in a small voice.

"Which one?" her mother asks.

"The one on TV that held the press conference." She answers, while the detective writes down what she says.

"Blonde?" she nods and takes her time before speaking again.

"He was wearing dark blue pants with an open striped shirt." She takes a sip from the boxed juice.

"Is there anything else that you can remember about the man in the park?" Elle prompts her. Ally looks up again in thought.

"Well I've seen him there several times before. He was always kind of hidden behind the bushes, you know?" she tilts her head for a moment. "Oh and he had a scar that went diagonally across his left cheek." She adds looking down at her hands.

"Thank you so much for your help Ally." Gideon says in a warm tone with a smile that Ally quickly returns.

"May I go now?" she inquires. Her mother nods and she springs from the seat and heads back upstairs to her bedroom.

"Thank you so much for letting us speak with Ally. I really think that we'll get a good composite from her description." Detective Byrnes closes his black notebook and they are walked to the front door. "If Ally remembers anything, please don't hesitate to give us a call." He adds as they get into the car and drive back to the station.

"It's too late." Elle mummers under her breath.

"Never say that. We have to at least try." Gideon shakes his head.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: The disclaimer can be found in the previous chapter.

Dear Reader(s),

So ends my working outwards in (madness). After watching the episode What Fresh Hell? I noticed something about Gideon in how he reacted to the situation and interacted with Billie Copeland. Going with the cues, you'll soon see what I've done with that little bit of extreme behaviour. Anyways, I hope that you enjoy this, for it might be a while before I get my next piece penned, we'll have to see, real life has a tendency to screw things up.

* * *

As the minutes turn to hours, Gideon's hope slowly begins to sway. Frustration is written all over him. From his facial expressions and tone of voice, right down to his posture. 

"Have they shown the composite yet?" he takes another deep breath, runs his hand through his closely cropped hair and removes the thin wire glasses.

"We have." An officer replies calmly.

"Anything through our tip line?"

"Nothing of any significance." Replies another.

"What do you mean? Every tip is significant. We are talking about a seven-year-old little girl, whose parents are beside themselves with grief. Hoping for the best, yet preparing for the worst and you have the nerve to state that there's nothing of significance?" his tone edgy, sharper than usual. Glancing quickly at Hotchner, Elle silently nods her agreement and makes her way over to the desk Gideon occupies.

"You're exhausted. When did you last sleep?" she sits on the edge of the desk and leans towards him.

"I don't recall." He answers looking at his watch.

"Come on. You and I are going on a much-needed coffee run." She stands and he shakes his head in a daze and follows.

"Thanks Elle." Hotchner says quietly.

"No problem. Would you prefer tea or a cup of coffee?" she inquires.

"Coffee is fine." He replies and watches as she literally guides Gideon out the door to the car.

"He'll be fine." Hotchner finds himself trying to explain Gideon's behaviour to his teammates, and a room of officers.

"Are you sure? He looks pretty beat to me." Morgan says as another phone rings and Reid answers it.

"I'm going to call Garcia and see if my girl's gotten us a match on that sketch." Morgan says, dialling her number.

"Yes my darling." She says busily typing away. Morgan chuckles and grins at her obvious multi-tasking.

"Thought when I called, I had your undivided attention." He replies.

"You do." He can hear the mad typing cease.

"Have you gotten me anything on that sketch we sent you earlier?"

"Hot stuff, you know it. Actually, more then I'll wager you thought I'd get." He can hear her flirty grin in her tone.

"Really?" Hotchner watches as his eyebrows shoot up. "Do tell."

"Well I also ran your very extensive list. You know? See what they were looking at. I narrowed it down substantially. I have to warn you, its still pretty long." She sighs.

"Thanks sweetness."

"You totally owe me. Oh, you'll have that list in a few. I'm sending it over the wire okay?"

"You better believe it." He snaps his phone closed and turns towards the remaining team. "Byrnes, Garcia has cut your list down. I think we ought to split into teams and interview everyone who's on it."

"Morgan, we really don't have the time, or the man power for that." Hotchner sits back in his seat.

Meanwhile, the drive to the coffee shop is silent. Elle navigates the car into an empty slot.

"So, are you coming in, or waiting in the car?" she gives Gideon a sideway glance and he moves to unbuckle his seatbelt. They enter the quiet shop and head to the counter where a woman stands waiting.

"What can I get you?" she inquires posed to fill what she thinks will be a short order.

"Let's see. Could I get seven large black coffees and enough cream and sugar." Without protest, she keys in the order.

"Will that be everything this evening?" she inquires. Elle thinks about it.

"Actually, could you do an assorted box of doughnuts as well? Gideon how many? A dozen?" he nods, hardly paying her any attention.

"Not a problem." She turns away from the till and begins to fill the order. Elle glances at the total and quickly gets out her wallet, placing the money on the counter.

"Thanks so much." She smiles and he takes the bag with the doughnuts and picks up the box of coffees.

"Have a good evening." Elle says as they make their way back to the car. "What is going on with you?" she immediately says once they've gotten themselves settled and she starts the engine.

"Elle." He says simply in his 'I don't care to talk about it tone', a tone she knows very well and also knows how to get around.

"Okay fine. If you don't want to talk about it then I'll talk." She says, slowing the car to a stop at an intersection.

"Elle." He says again, a bit firmer than the last time.

"You're always there for any of us when we need that sounding board. You have helped Reid with his nightmares, Hotch with Haley and Morgan with being less of an ass than usual." He laughs a bit at her last comment. "You're always the rock in the bunch and you know as well as I do that everyone needs someone that they can turn to. I know this is a trying case. I know how much you feel for these girls, how much you want to rip the un-sub limb from limb, but you won't because you also know what's in store for him once he is caught. We'll catch him. Just like the others." She pulls into the station lot and parks the car.

"Elle?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks." He opens the door, collects the orders and waits for her to go back into the station. "So what's the situation?" Gideon inquires, passing out the coffees to the team.

"Garcia sent us her list over the wire." Morgan replies happily setting the list on the conference room table.

"How many are on that list?" Elle sits and reaches for a few creams for her coffee.

"Based on the information that we provided her with, along with the sketch, she has been able to narrow it down to ten. That's the good news." Morgan reaches for a couple of cream containers.

"Then I say we get a move on it!" Gideon says from his place beside the window.

"You didn't hear the bad news." Morgan stirs his coffee.

"Which is?"

"They found another body while you and Elle were on the coffee run."

"Seriously?" Elle glares at Morgan.

"I've sent officers to the crime scene. It's exactly like the others. An eyewitness reported seeing the un-sub in the woods with a bundle in his arms. She concealed herself in the brush and watched as he laid the body out."

"Why hasn't a BAU gone to the scene?" Gideon's heart leaps from his chest.

"Here." Reid holds out the photographs, Gideon quickly goes through them, and then lets them fall to the table.

"We have two dead little girls. We have to find this bastard!" he flies from the room with the list in his hand.

"What is he going to do?" Byrnes is shocked by his flight.

"He's going to track down every guy on that list." Elle replies, pushing her chair from the table and dashes after him. "Gideon!" she calls and he turns around. "Calm down. I know how hard this is." She closes the distance between them.

"No, you don't." he snaps. She reaches out and holds his arm firmly, yet at the same time gently.

"Then help me understand." She says in a soft tone, knowing its effectiveness in helping in high stress situations. He runs his free hand down his face. Looking down for a moment, he collects his thoughts.

"It was five years ago that my niece was abducted. Of course there was no way that I could partake in the investigation and at the time I accepted that. Outside of the official investigation, I helped in any way that I could in trying to find her. They found Brooke's body four days later. I went with my sister Andrea to the morgue to identify the body. Loosing a child through illness or accident is hard, believe you me, but Brooke died at the hands of some sick bastard, and it breaks my heart that there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it. They caught him a week later, while trying to lure another little girl into his car near the school playground. The judge could only sentence him with attempt to kidnap and the murder of another little girl. Apparently there was insufficient evidence to support his confession, so he will not pay for killing Brooke. She would have been fifteen this year." His eyes hold a far off, quasi-glassy gaze.

"Oh Gideon, I'm so sorry." She pauses and places a comforting hand on his arm. He turns his gaze to her and she tugs on his shirtsleeve. "Come with me back to the conference room. We'll catch this creep before he hurts her." She adds pulling him back towards the conference room. Hotchner stands at the front of the room holding a small stack of papers in his hands. Gideon and Elle sit at the table and he continues to address everyone.

"Gideon, you and Elle will take suspects one through five. Morgan and Reid six through eight, and Byrnes and I will take nine and ten. J.J., you will have to be on standby in prep for another media conference. Regardless of our results, we need to have the public reminded that there's a missing girl out there and the least significant thing can lead to an arrest." Hotchner hands out the lists. "Tomorrow morning we'll run through these lists and meet back here." He adds and everyone nods their understanding.

* * *

"Who's first on our list?" Morgan inquires, starting the engine. Reid looks over the list. 

"Jeffery Nash." Reid replies, continuing to go over the information given to them prior to their departure. "You'll want to hang a left." He adds as they approach the home.

"So it begins." Morgan says under his breath as he parks the car on the street and they get out of the car. "I doubt this is our guy." He adds as they walk up the drive.

"He's not a perfectionist." Reid nods agreement. "A perfectionist would have a home that." He pauses.

"Has every blade of grass in place and not a chip in the paint." Morgan fills in and presses the doorbell. "Such a waste of time." He says under his breath. "We should be rounding them up or something."

"Can I help you?" a blonde opens the door. Morgan and Reid show their badges.

"We're with the FBI's behavioural analysis unit. Would it be possible to speak to Jeffery Nash?" Morgan inquires, replacing his wallet.

"Sure, come in." she moves aside, allowing them access to the home.

"Thank you." Reid says as they follow her through into the bright kitchen. Jeffery Nash sits at the dinner table; a little boy sits in a high chair and plays with the breakfast he's unsuccessfully being fed. He looks up at the agents and a dark expression passes over his face.

"Lena, I'll talk to them outside." He says getting up and leading them out the patio door to the back yard.

"I don't suppose your aware of the Cassandra Clinton abduction?" Morgan gets right to the point as Jeffery closes the heavy glass door.

"I've seen the news." He replies sitting on the banister. "Terrible when someone would do such a thing to a child." He adds crossing his arms across his broad chest. As if it suddenly hits him. "I don't suppose you're here because you think I did it."

"We're covering all of our bases. The problem is that with most child abductions, they end badly." Reid states.

"What I did all those years ago is in the past. Besides, murder was never what it was about." He says standing.

"You wouldn't happen to have met someone capable of this?" Morgan prompts him for more answers.

"Sorry, I can't help you there." He replies simply.

"Thank you for your time." Reid extends his hand and Jeffery shakes it then Morgan's and walks them out to the front of the home.

"That was a bust." Morgan states as they drive off to the next name on their list. Michael Crane.

Meanwhile, Hotchner and Byrnes have just completed questioning their first suspect on their short list.

"Do you ever get the feeling that you're just running in circles?" Byrnes asks as they head to the next suspect on their list.

"There are moments of that, however, that's when you see that which has always been right in front of you." Hotchner replies and parks the car. "This isn't our guy either." He states and Byrnes just stares at him.

"How so?"

"This home is literally in shambles. From the profile we worked out, our un-sub is a confident perfectionist. The fact that this home is probably unsafe to occupy tells me that he's disorganised at best. Probably lazy." Hotchner follows Byrnes to the front door. Tapping on the crooked screen door they wait.

"Hello?" Byrnes calls. "San Francisco police." He adds and they continue to wait.

Elle and Gideon make their way through their list.

"One left." She says reading through the file on the potential un-sub. Rubbing at the back of her neck, she tilts her wrist to check the time. "It's seven-thirty."

"I know. That's another day with no luck." He sighs and they head up the path that leads to the front door.

"Good evening. May I help you?" the salt and pepper haired man inquires stepping aside as they reveal their badges.

"Kale Jenkins?" Gideon tilts his head in wait.

"Yes, that's me." He replies moving aside to allow them to step into the foyer.

"I'm Special Agent Jason Gideon, this is Agent Elle Greenaway. Would it be okay if we asked you a couple of questions? They are pertaining to the disappearance of Cassandra Clinton." opening a small notebook, Kale nods and Gideon gages his body language.

"Such a sad situation. I was part of one of the earlier search parties. Actually, I just got in not long ago." He sits casually on the steps.

"So you are aware of the situation and the fact that we're probably looking at a recovery then?" he tests the waters, wondering if he can trip Kale up enough to see if he's their guy or not. All the while Elle watches his body language and takes mental notes of the foyer. An antique mahogany circular table proudly stands in the middle, a cut crystal vase of tall fresh calla lilies, and his keys occupy a silver tray carefully tucked beside the vase.

"They didn't say anything about that. We are meeting at eight in the morning tomorrow at the park." He looks down at his folded hands. "It's such a shame that this is happening. Children are innocent in this world. How could anyone wish to mistreat a little girl." His eye water a bit at images still left in his mind from his own reign of terror on children.

"We'll find her." Elle says tapping Gideon's shoulder. "Thank you so much for your time."

"Helping is the least I can do. Although I am well aware that it will never erase what I did in the past." He replies. "It does, however, help me to move forward. Granted, I know now why I did the things I did. I'm just glad that I received the help." He stands and walks them to the door.

"We might need your help. Here's my card. If there's anything that you can think of that might help us, don't hesitate to give me a call." Gideon hands him the card and they head back to the car. "I hope the others have had some luck." He adds turning the key in the ignition.

"That guy gives me the creeps." Elle says as Gideon drives back to the station.

"The phones have been ringing off the hook since this evenings news interview with J.J. and the Clintons. I just hope that something comes from it." Byrnes flips through a file and Hotchner paces the conference room.

"While I hope that we do find her, I just have a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach." Hotchner pauses in his pacing. "Officers are following up on the tips right?"

"Of course. This case is on high priority. I wouldn't have it any other way. Not just that. Another little girl has been reported missing." He adds rolling his eyes and then his neck.

"That's it? No matter what we do, we'll never get ahead of this guy?" Morgan spits his words like nails from an air nail gun, as he and Reid enter the conference room.

"This guy is good. Overly confident, I'd say he excels at anything and everything that he does." Hotchner turns on his heel, making his way back to the window.

"So what's his damage?" Morgan snaps.

"Simmer down." Gideon says from the door, he and Elle join the group. "J.J. did a fantastic job getting the story to air. I hear that the tip line is still bustling with calls. Morgan, how did it go?"

"It went. We didn't find anything that would assist us with cracking this case open right down the middle. This is such a hopeless cause." He lets the stress show on his face, something he usually manages to keep under wraps.

"Hotch?" Hotchner only shakes his head and leans against the window ledge, arms crossed, and lips pressed tightly into a thin line.

Everyone retrieves their notes and begins to create a short list on one of the blank boards. Glancing at his watch, Reid drums his slender fingers on the tabletop.

"We have every single base covered, and yet here we are." He says, his young face looking ragged with defeat.

"Let's head back to the hotel and grab something to eat." Morgan suggests. "Maybe we need five minutes away from this and we'll see that clue that's right in front of our noses." He makes a move and Hotchner nods.

"We're keeping those lines open. If something checks out, I'll give you a call." Byrnes shakes his head and leaves the room.

* * *

Gideon and Elle arrive at the park to get a feel of the people helping with the search party. 

"Good morning Special Agent Gideon." Kale calls from a small group off to one side. There are several groups, in fact and Elle is happy that there is still hope of finding Cassandra alive. Gideon nods in acknowledgement of Kale and notice as a news anchor is in the process of setting up.

"Do you see who I see?" Gideon says in a hushed tone. Elle carefully follows his gaze.

"I think I do. The scar that the others seemed to lack." She replies in a calm manner.

"You don't have your camera handy do you?" he inquires and she shakes her head.

"Damn it, I left it in the car." She watches as he seems to conceal himself in the shadows, far enough from the group not to be drawn into the group. "My cell phone doesn't get the distance." She adds. "Unless." Trailing off, she wanders towards a nearby path, pretending to dial a number, and takes a quick snap. Returning to where she left Gideon, she backs up the image. "It's a bit grainy, but I think Garcia will be able to get something from it."

"Good. Let's meet the others at the station." He smiles widely and they walk back to the car.

"Hey Garcia."

"Yes, sunshine?" she replies madly typing away at one of the many keyboards.

"I need you to run a photo from my cell phone."

"No problem. When you get to the station, upload it to me."

"Thanks." Elle quickly places her phone back on her belt and motions for Gideon to follow her back to the car.

"You're not staying to help?" Kale calls as he catches up.

"We're heading back to the station." Gideon replies and Kale smiles before returning to his group.

"Good luck!" he opens a map and they begin plotting their search.

Once they arrive at the station, Elle heads straight to a computer to upload the image to Garcia.

"So now what?" Byrnes inquires from behind them.

"We wait." Elle replies. "Anyone else in need of coffee?" she rises and heads to the break room with Morgan on her heels.

"I thought we sent the sketch to Garcia with the scar." He says as he pours coffee into two paper cups. She thinks for a moment and nods.

"We did. I suppose that isn't necessarily taken into consideration by the program." She replies and leans against the counter drinking her coffee. "What?"

"Nothing." He says and leans against the counter beside her. "I just don't like waiting." He takes another sip.

"I know what you mean." She replies and heads back to the conference room where the rest of the team sit in wait. Hotchner and J.J. have their heads together working on yet another press conference.

"You're still going to keep this in the media? Don't you think they've warn out their influence?" Reid says sitting back in his seat.

"Never underestimate the power of the media." J.J. says looking up at him from the pages of notes in front of her.

"Agent Hotchner, we have an interesting tip that's come in." an officer says from the door.

"Thank you. Morgan, I'd like you and Reid to check it out." He adds and sits back in the vacant seat beside J.J.

"Let's roll." He and Reid head out, and an un-nerving silence once more washes about the room like an unsettled ocean.

"Thanks Hotchner." Gideon says with a twinkle in his eye. Elle nearly jumps out of her chair as her cell vibrates against her.

"Garcia, this has better be good news." Elle can hear the collective sigh of relief when she nods that she has something. She scribbles the address on the pad and smiles brightly. "Thanks so much." Folding her cell phone with a happy sigh. "Let's get this creep." She says and dashes out of the room with Gideon on her heels.

"Elle, wait up." He calls. She pauses, turning around to face him.

"Aren't you coming with me?" he glances at Hotchner, who nods his ascent and quickly catches up with her.

They arrive at the address provided by Garcia. The home is in a well- established neighbourhood, and judging from its exterior— Elle can see their un-sub residing here. Taking a breath, she follows Gideon up the interlock brick driveway to the immaculately stained wooden porch. The porch moans against their quiet footsteps as they draw closer to the hunter green double door and Gideon slowly withdraws his gun, Elle follows his lead drawing her own and nodding that she is ready for whatever lies beyond the door. Pressing the doorbell, they wait for a moment that to both of them feels like an eternity, yet they are not surprised in the least that the un-sub isn't home. Glancing at Gideon, Elle shoots the doorknob and the door falls open and they cautiously enter the home.

"I've got the upstairs." She says.

"I'll check out this floor first, then move to the basement." He mouths good luck. She smiles with a nod and makes her way up the elegantly curved staircase to the top floor. Remaining on the main floor, Gideon carefully navigates through the oddly decorated home. From its exterior, one would never imagine that the interior would be in the old Victorian style.

Elle reaches the top of the stairs and examines all of the traditional hiding places, being sure that they are clear, she gingerly turns her attention to the last room on the floor— the master bedroom. Finding the door open a crack, Elle reaches out towards it, gently pushing it open; it creeks against her touch, but she continues onwards. Poking her gun around the door to be sure that no one is hiding behind it; she fumbles for a light switch and quickly flips it. No way, she thinks gasping in horror as her eyes fall upon the far wall, which is plastered with photographs of numerous little girls. Monique Roberts is amongst them. A wave of queasiness washes over her as she reads the shampoo scents printed carefully on each photograph— Kiwi under Monique and strawberry under Cassandra's smiling face. Backtracking through the bedroom, she enters the bathroom. Opening the various cupboards, she finds neatly folded pink terry cloth bathrobes, fresh bars of soap, as well as children's shampoo in various scents.

Meanwhile, Gideon gingerly makes way down the narrow staircase into the bowels of the home. With his gun still drawn, poised to fire should the need arise. His eyes begin to adjust to the darkness, making out a long hallway, lined with doors. Not knowing the reason why the door he stands in front of is any more significant then the others, he pauses and presses his ear against it in wait. Hearing nothing, he draws a quick breath and kicks in the door. Unable to muffle the gasp that escapes his lips. Nor can he ignore the shock that runs through his entire body, causing his blood to run cold; he takes in the sight that is literally set out before him. Her still form is neatly tucked under the blankets. Her little arms wrapped around the plush, fluffy, caramel teddy bear. Securing the un-sub's absence, he returns his gun to its holster. Cursing himself for all of the things he was unable to do for her, for missing the most significant clue and most important to him, for being too late. In a strange twist, he is reminded of Brooke for a moment, and it makes him feel worse then he had before. Pausing at her bedside, he wonders if in all honesty this outcome has been for the best. That whatever she no doubt had endeared must have been traumatising enough. In truth, he could never imagine what might be in store for her had they been able to get to her in time, had they stopped the un-sub from taking her life.

"I'm so sorry." He whispers, reaching out, he runs his hand over her little head and stands.

"Gideon?" he hears his name, yet it takes him a moment to return to reality. He senses someone's hand on his shoulder, as he seems to be awaking from a dreamlike state, the sense of slow motion finally leaving him.

"I'm so sorry." He mumbles once more and Elle just keeps her arm around his shoulders, hoping his knees don't buckle beneath him.

"Gideon, it's all right." She whispers in his ear. "Let me call Hotchner, okay?" she feels him nod and she dials his number.

"Hotchner."

"It's Elle, you'll want to get the M.E., a forensic team, crime scene photographers and whomever else you can round up."

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. Just get them here okay?"

"Sure." He replies, as she closes her phone and tucks it in its place on her belt.

"Come on." She keeps her arm around him and guides him out.

"I'm so sorry." He covers his face with one of his hands as she finally gets him outside and sits him on the steps.

"It's okay, you've done everything that you possibly could to help her." She sits with him and they wait. He sighs heavily and continues to fight the tears and emotions rushing through him. Sensing his inner quarrel, she sits quietly beside him and offers him whatever comfort she can while they wait for backup.

Hotchner is the first to spring from the car and meet them on the stairs.

"Have you checked the rest of the basement?" he inquires, resting one foot on the first step and leaning against the railing.

"No, but there is a series of doors in the hallway." She replies with a sigh.

"I'll check them out, we may have more victims." He rushes past and heads inside as Gideon and Elle move off to the side to allow the medical team to follow— Gideon still trying to work through the case in his head.

Hotchner makes his way down the hallway in double time, kicking down doors as he goes; he can hardly believe his eyes.

"Thank you." One little girl cries, wrapping her little arms around him.

"You're going to be okay." His face lights up as they continue through the hallway and the paramedics take them outside. Instead of following the paramedics to the awaiting ambulance, the girls seem to sense the emotion tucked inside Gideon. All seven little girls seem to flock around him. Elle sits back and watches as his dark, unreadable expression suddenly changes. Thank goodness, she thinks. Standing, Elle quickly assists the paramedic with her bag, allowing her to check the girls over. Satisfied that he found them all, Hotchner heads outside to meet Elle and Gideon on the porch steps.

"What happened to Morgan and Reid?" Elle inquires, while one of the little girls plunks herself beside her and grabs her arm, nestling herself against her.

"Hopefully back at the station with our un-sub." Hotchner replies, sitting himself next to Gideon, who seems content to be surrounded by happy little faces.

* * *

Roughly grabbing the un-sub, Morgan yanks the man from the backseat with very little concern of whether or not he injured him. Pushing him towards the precinct, he nods to the officer who holds the door open, and somewhat tosses the un-sub through it. There's a bit of a scuff, rubber shoes skidding on the ceramic tile, causing a bit of a ruckus within the usual commotion and J.J. pops her head out the open conference room door, just in time to catch the obvious show. 

"This is the un-sub?" she wears an expression of shock.

"What did you expect?" Reid replies from behind Morgan.

"Not him, that's for sure." She returns to her preparation for the evening's news broadcast. Reid watches as Morgan drags him into the interrogation room and then ducks into the conference room. "So what exactly did you two pull off?" she sits back in her seat, tilts her head in question.

"That tip we were asked to look into ended in a point for us." He replies folding his wiry arms across his chest and leaning against the doorframe casually.

"I'm almost afraid to ask what happened."

"Let's just say that we caught him with his hand in the cookie jar."

"Oh my." She replies with a sigh of relief.

"Have you heard anything from Elle and Gideon?" she looks away for a moment. Then returns her gaze, showing more emotion than intended as she had thought she had come to grips with the outcome.

"They too were successful. They found Cassandra and about seven other little girls. That's the good news." She pauses with a sigh.

"Bad news?" she can only nod. Knowing and understanding her need not to actually say that Cassandra is dead, he lets the breath he had been holding escape his thin lips.

"So Hotch is with them. Right?" Reid gets the information he knows he can gather from her.

"Yes, when he got off the phone with Elle, he said that they had found Cassandra and that she and Gideon thought that there might be more victims."

"More victims. Why didn't they physically check? That doesn't sound like Gideon." He wonders.

"I suppose that's why he flew out of here. Elle said that Gideon wasn't himself, whatever that means. Hotch seemed to know." She glances down at the open file, then back up at Reid, who cocks his head.

"I can't believe that I missed that." He says further examining the photographs still displayed on the many boards.

"Missed what?" she looks at the photographs, wondering what he means.

"They all have long brunette hair."

"The significance being?" she had noticed, but thought nothing of it.

"The likelihood of that detail feeding the un-subs fantasy is fairly high." He observes.

"Uh-huh, let me guess. All of this stems from something far deeper then his past?"

"Pretty much. I thought I'd give Morgan a head start, I doubt that he'll be too easy on him. It's a good thing that Gideon isn't here yet." He pauses, "I have the distinct feeling that he'd be ripped limb from limb."

"Don't I know it. Earlier, Hotch mentioned that he didn't think that Gideon was taking this case too well."

"I have to agree with that assessment. I seriously thought that he had lost it when he barged into an un-sub's home."

"I heard about that case as well. So you're letting Morgan take lead?" she inquires as they make their way to the interrogation room.

"Thought it might be best." Reid replies, pressing the button so that they can hear the interview.

"You do realise that it's probably a good idea to get yourself a very good lawyer. I doubt that any judge in his or her right mind will ever let you walk the streets again. Explain one thing to me though. Why have you done this?"

"Why what? Why do I wish to collect such sheer innocents? Perfection? They were everything that I was not." He replies sitting calmly in his seat. He hardly flinches at the open file of photos Morgan had placed in front of him. "All of them come to me willingly." He adds with his crooked smile. Morgan looks him straight in the eye.

"What you have done to them is well beyond my comprehension. You lure them, trick them into trusting you, and kidnap them."

"I see that you've read my file." He seems almost proud of his 'accomplishments'. Morgan nods with a grunt.

"You abuse them emotionally, physically, and sexually. Confining them to rooms before becoming board with them and drowning them."

"You're point exactly agent." Hearing his offences, his grin deepens and he shifts in his seat. Morgan hits the table with his fist for emphasise.

"My point is that your victims were defenceless little girls. You take from them their innocence. I am truly having a great deal of difficulty in comprehending your behaviour. In fact, I loathed having to 'walk in your shoes'. When I tried looking up someone like you, there didn't seem to be terminology for what you've done, for what you are."

"So I'm not your average Joe, textbook case?" he pauses, "well then, good to be remembered for something extraordinary then just fade away like so many others have and will." His tone matching his cocky grin and Morgan turns his back on the un-sub in utter disgust.

"I'm telling you, you've backed yourself into a corner but good. Wait a second." He turns to face the un-sub. "All of your victims were brunette. What's the fascination? Did they remind you of your mother? Or perhaps your sister?" at the observation, the un-sub physically flinches as if cut. "Who caused you to be this way? Who hurt you? What did they do to you?"

"I'm not answering that!" he snaps and his body language immediately shifts from defensive to offensive. Morgan picks up on the change.

"Well, just be glad that you're in here with me and not my boss." Morgan replies and leaves the room in a dramatic huff, making sure to let the door slam shut behind him. "I swear, if Gideon gets his hands on that disgusting excuse of a man, he's as good as dead." He shakes his head and joins Reid and J.J. at the one-way glass.

"What did his mother do to him? Dress him up like a little girl because that's what she wanted?" J.J. pales slightly. "Perhaps it is his mother who abused him and this is his way of getting revenge?"

"Why harm innocent little girls? Its far more logical for him to go after grown women." Morgan replies.

"I would have to guess that his environment must have been incredibly controlled and strict. Perhaps he had siblings." Reid pauses in thought. "Maybe his mother or even his father abused him sexually. I'm still having trouble reading him." Reid loosely folds his arm across his lean torso, cups his elbow in his hand and props his chin on the back of his slender hand.

"If he had siblings, could any of them have done something to result in this?" J.J. inquires. Reid finds himself shifting from one foot to the other.

"It is possible, but highly unlikely. Then again, this case has been anything but normal. Hey Morgan, when did you notice the hair colour?"

"A couple of victims into it." He replies as the door opens and Hotchner enters the small room.

"Along with Cassandra, there were several other little girls, prepared to follow and succumb to the same fate." He says, happy to have found them before the un-sub succeeded in completing his behaviour.

"How is Gideon taking it?" Reid inquires turning to face him.

"Hanging in there, I guess. He's with Elle in the break room. I don't really know how he is, as he really isn't saying much." He says in a worried tone. Wondering what's going on in Gideon's head and hoping that it won't affect him further. He tilts his head and takes a long look at their un-sub. "Jake Tanner." He spites the name from his lips like poison.

"We hardly got him into the interrogation room before we had our confession." Reid says smiling and gesturing towards Morgan to give him the credit for apprehending the un-sub.

"Good work. I highly doubt that anything less than solitary will do him any good." Hotchner states, knowing full well the statistics of survival for child offenders within the prison system— and that didn't even come close to accounting for the unreported incidents.

"I hope he rots." All eyes turn onto J.J., her tone sharp, cold, and serious.

"Oh I have no doubt about that." Morgan states with a sly smile.

"Jake's lawyer has arrived. We'll finish processing him and complete the questioning form here." Byrnes says with a smile. He shakes Hotchner's hand and they leave the small room, satisfied that another monster will no longer prey on the weaker members of society.

"He's so lucky." Reid states with a slight grin.

"How so?" Morgan gives him a sideways glance.

"Let's put it this way. By some miracle, he just missed the Gideon." At this point, they cannot help but laugh.

The break room has a comfortable sitting area in front of a television set. After spending a good twenty minutes pacing the room like a caged animal, he finally falls into a chair. Gideon leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. Elle sits in the chair beside him. Knowing what this is about, knowing that words are un-necessary, she places a comforting hand on his arm to let him know that she will be there for him. Lifting his head, he looks at her, she sees the wear and emotional toll the case has inflicted upon him.

"Hey." She says simply, gently squeezing his arm. He covers her hand with his own and he finally attempts to smile.

"I suppose that its finally over." He sighs in defeat.

"Hotch said that Morgan and Reid caught him red handed." She turns her hand upside within his. He sighs once more and nods. The silence between them is inviting.

"Thank you." He says, hardly above a whisper. Elle smiles warmly, and stands, pulling him up with her. They know that the team will be in the conference room and walk down the hallway to meet them. Collecting a few files, they are quick in gathering their bags and checking out of the hotel.

"So glad to be going home." Elle says inhaling her last breath of San Francisco air before boarding the plane.

"I didn't have a chance to mention this earlier." J.J. says from her seat near the front of the plane. "As soon as we arrive back at Quantico, we're needed on another case." J.J. adds as the seatbelt signs turn off and everyone finds their regular places to occupy.

"Wonderful." Elle mumbles under her breath, as she swings her legs onto the sofa and presses her cheek into her hand, her eyes close and she quickly falls asleep to the constant lull of the jets engines. Gideon quickly stands and finds a blanket that is kept in one of the bulkheads and drapes it over her. He then returns to his seat, the furthest it would seem from the bunch, located at the planes rear and sets himself to rest. Yet he finds no rest, no rest for the wicked, he muses, closing his eyes against the onset of a headache.


End file.
